


Searching

by pixiedustandbluebutterflies



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, HEA, Narcissa ships it, badass!hermione, egyptology inspired, international magic, isis and osiris - freeform, mythology inspired, the littlest bit of angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22282189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixiedustandbluebutterflies/pseuds/pixiedustandbluebutterflies
Summary: Hermione and Draco’s hearts were tired of hatred and exhausted of prejudice - but the world wasn’t necessarily ready to accept a relationship between a muggleborn war hero and the son of a disgraced death eater. After years of turning enemies into friends, overcoming public scrutiny, and living through a very public engagement, they were ready to spend the rest of their lives together in peace.Unfortunately, sometimes those closest to you have other plans.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10
Collections: Where Gods Dwell: A Dramione Fest





	Searching

**Author's Note:**

> This is my fic, Searching, inspired by the story of Isis and Osiris for The Mourning Madam’s Where Gods Dwell mythology fest. The original story has dark elements to begin with, but I have the light prompt so it will stay on the lighter side and will definitely have a HEA.

The ministry’s in-house cafe was bustling with officials looking for their late afternoon caffeine fix. Occasionally, their eyes would linger on the inhabitants of a particular table, but most were too busy to give Draco and Lucius Malfoy a passing glance. But Draco paid his colleagues no attention; his gaze was fixated on the older man sitting in front of him.

“I don’t think I quite understand what you’re proposing,” Draco stated, a well manicured eyebrow raised in suspicion. “Are you… asking if you can come to my stag party?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Draco,” Lucius scoffed. “You know my house arrest wouldn’t allow such a thing. I’m reminded, quite often, that I’m lucky they allow me to meet you here. I would merely like to bankroll some of the activities. To show my support.”

“Your support.” Draco sized his father up quietly. His once platinum hair was streaked with silver and there were lines where his skin was once smooth. The war hadn’t been kind to him, and neither had his three year sentence in Azkaban. After suffering a mental break in the prison, Draco had been able to convince to ministry to release his father into his mother’s custody. The ministry had seized the Manor as evidence, so Lucius and Narcissa were currently residing in their London penthouse under close ministry scrutiny.

“Yes Draco. I know I haven’t been the most,” Lucius paused, and Draco could see in his face that he was looking for the most diplomatic word.

“Open-minded,” Draco supplied.

“I suppose that’s a word for it,” he conceded. “And no, your mother didn’t put me up to this.”

“Our family has always been close-knit, father. I don’t want old prejudices and preconceptions causing an unnecessary rift between us. Don’t make me choose between a relationship with you and my marriage to her. You won’t like the outcome.”

“I would expect nothing less from you.” Lucius took a drink from his mug, the steam rising lazily from the tea inside. “So do I have permission? To set up an activity for your gathering?”

“What did you have in mind?”

*****

Long after clocking out, Draco sat in his office mulling over his conversation with his father.

He and Hermione had come public with their relationship a mere week before his father’s mental break. You couldn’t look at a headline without reading about how their courtship had finally caused the Malfoy patriarch to crack.

This, of course, was ridiculous. Lucius had gone from Azkaban, to house arrest under Voldemort’s regime, back to Azkaban. The constant strain combined with the prolonged dementor exposure had weakened his mind. Hermione had helped Draco file for medical parole, which was granted with a laundry list of parameters.

Despite his crusade for his father’s release, Lucius’ court required counseling, and the fact that they had gotten through a handful of family dinners without any incidents, Draco was still a little hesitant to believe he had changed. He knew Lucius wasn’t stupid enough to start an argument regarding family lines in the middle of the ministry (or in front of his mother, who _adored_ Hermione), but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was waiting for his father to snap.

Elbows resting on his desk, Draco lowered his head into hands, rubbing the nape of his neck. All this tension was going to give him a migrane if he wasn’t careful.

He was brought out of his reverie by a sudden warmth radiating from his trouser pocket. Reaching in, he extracted a coin, the words _Is everything ok? You’re later than expected_ glowing against the gold of the fake galleon.

The corner of his mouth twitched into a small smile as he glanced at the clock next to his office door, confirming that he was, indeed, quite late coming home. Sending a quick _On my way now_ he gathered his belongings and made his way to the floo point that would bring him home.

*****

The fireplace burst into green flame, inciting an annoyed hiss from Crookshanks as Hermione gingerly placed her bookmark between the pages of her book and sat up from her laying position on the couch.

“You didn’t get started without me?” Draco asked, ducking to avoid hitting his head on the mantle while also dusting soot off of his shoulders.

“Is that why you hid in your office for so long? So that you’d get out of finishing the seating chart?” She giggled as she stood up. Fuzzy blanket wrapped around her shoulders, Hermione shuffled her way over to Draco’s side.

“Listen, Granger, there is nothing you could ask me to do that would make me prefer sitting in my office to coming home,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into an embrace. She looked up at him again, placing a soft kiss on his sternum. “I met with my father today.”

“Ah, your distraction makes sense, then, I suppose,” she turned her head so her ear was pressed against his chest, listening to the vibrations of his words.

“Yeah. Apparently there’s some Malfoy stag party family tradition he wants to ensure is upheld at my party next week.”

“And what does this Malfoy family tradition entail?”

“He didn’t say much,” Draco said, unwrapping his arms and toeing off his shoes as Hermione shed her blanket. “Just that it was some sort of escape game and that he’d pay to rent the space and he’d make the necessary arrangements. I told him to tell Potter and Zabini the details since they’re in charge.”

With a flick of her wrist, Hermione accio’d their wedding binder, opening it up to their tentative seating arrangements.

“Well at least it sounds intriguing. More so than just pub hopping and getting tanked before calling me to apparate you home,” she scoffed. “I’m pretty sure that’s all the boys had planned.”

“You would be intrigued by an otherwise unmentioned family tradition that happens to involve puzzles.”

She looked at him over the arrangements of names and circles. “At least he’s trying, Draco. This hasn’t been easy for him.”

He looked back at her, and could feel the tightness in his face and shoulders ease. “I know. I know it’s good that he’s trying. I’m glad he’s trying,” he said, kissing her temple. “So, where did we leave off?”


End file.
